


Five Times They Said I Love You

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 5 + 1, M/M, Neck Rub, Saying I Love You, shoot out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plus one time they really meant it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times They Said I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Written apropos of nothing!   
> Beta read by Dunicha.

 

No matter how much he twists, Phil’s neck refuses to give him the satisfying pop-crack relief he’s been after all day. He bends his head back and forth and nothing, just a stiff ache that won’t go away. 

 

“You alright, sir?” 

Phil looks up to see Barton standing in the doorway with his bow slung over one shoulder. “Just a stiff neck,” he answers, expecting a polite nod and for Clint to go about his day, but he lifts the bow over his head and comes in, propping it next to a filing cabinet and standing behind Phil to just start massaging his neck. It’s an instant relief; Clint pinpoints the exact place that’s been feeling off, and the groan that escapes Phil is embarrassing but impossible not to make. 

 

He moves to hold either side of Phil’s neck and dig in his thumbs before moving Phil’s head back and forth. It feels _so_ good, and Phil doesn’t realise he’s said so til Clint huffs a laugh and says thank you, doing a quick movement that makes something pop deliciously. “Oh god I love you,” gasps Phil on a breath, feeling like he’ll collapse once Clint lets go and not fully realising what he’s said til the movements falter. Another moment later, Clint’s hands are gone, leaving Phil’s skin bereft. “Glad to be of service, sir,” Clint says with a little mock-salute, picking up the bow and taking off.

 

-

 

Clint’s steaming drunk - actual curls of steam rolling off the hot skin of bare shoulders as he staggers about in the snow. “C’mon, Clint. Let’s get you home,” Phil says softly, leading him to the car.

Clint sings a little rendition of ‘We Are The Champions’, loud and obnoxious but quietening when Phil manages to bundle him into the car, whispering, “of the wooorld,” as Phil fastens his seatbelt across his bare chest, giggling and grabbing at him. “Let me know if you need me to stop, alright? Please don’t puke in the rental.” 

“I. Don’t.” Clint's voice is grave. 

“Don’t what?” Phil asks as he turns the key in the ignition. 

“Exactly." Clint nods as though he’s proven his point. Phil would ask him to elaborate but he abruptly falls asleep, snoring lightly. 

 

When they get to the hotel, Phil gets Clint up to his room and does his best to make him comfortable, getting a couple of paracetamol and a glass of water into him before taking off his boots and getting him properly under the covers. “Love you,” Clint murmurs into the pillow as Phil turns out the light. 

 

-

 

The office is covered in paper, every surface hidden by sticky notes and photos and bits of string connecting things together. Clint steps over a stack of files to place a mug of coffee and a muffin on top of a 1986 Manhattan phone book that has more post-its sticking out of it. “Need a hand?” 

 

Phil’s wearing _glasses_ , which is too goddamn cute, and he looks at him owlishly from behind them, taking a second to reply since he’s been awake for god knows how long - his five o’clock shadow’s looking positively beardly, which is cute as hell too.

 

“It’s right here and I’m not seeing it.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, looking around at the sea of paper. Clint looks around too, with no idea what Phil’s even working on much less of how he can help. “I brought you a blueberry muffin,” he says uselessly, nodding towards it. Phil looks at it and then stares long enough that Clint thinks he’s zoned out completely. “Blueberries...” he says eventually. He laughs and picks it up. “Fucking blueberries! Haha! Clint! I love you! It’s the blueberries!!”

 

Clint gets a commendation out of it, and he still never finds out what he did.

 

-

 

Clint’s been on a rooftop for hours, with Phil in his ear letting him while away the hours with eye-spy and rude jokes before he finally has anything for him to do. Clint shuffles a little and complains about pins and needles, pressing his eye back to the sight of his rifle before telling Phil that the eagle has landed. “Hold off til I tell you,” Phil says, and Clint’s not sure what his intel is but it’s a good twenty minutes of terse waiting before he finally lets him take the shot. With a sharp bang and a clean kill, Clint rolls onto his back and looks at the sky, listening to distant whooping in the control room. “Pizza?” Phil says, and Clint laughs mostly to himself because he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted pizza as much as he does right now. “Fuck yes. God, I love you sometimes.” 

 

-

 

Clint’s used to being in medical as a patient but not so much as a visitor, and it’s weird sitting in the chair rather than laying in the bed, weirder still to see _Coulson_ hooked up to all the tubes and machines. “You’re supposed to be a desk jockey,” Clint says to himself, since Phil’s out cold with the monitors steadily beep beep beeping away. He must fall asleep too, because one minute it’s mid afternoon and the next it’s dark and his neck is sore. Phil’s watching him with the groggy eyes of someone on a lot of morphine and he throws him a goofy smile. “You look like crap,” he jokes, his voice rough. 

 

Phil’s kinda fun on the drugs, like he has no filter at all, and he tells Clint all sorts of gossip about people and things he has no business telling him. They play stupid games and watch trashy TV til Phil’s looking drowsy and Clint makes an excuse to leave. He puts a hand on Phil’s shoulder when he says goodnight, and Phil leans into it, eyes closed already. “I love you,” he murmurs, like it’s just another part of ‘see you tomorrow'.

 

-

 

“So is this a more than two time thing?” Clint’s naked, and he’s in Phil’s arms, and he’s _naked_. Phil’s naked too. “I hope so,” he answers, moving to kiss the little smile on Clint’s lips. 

“We took our time, huh?” 

Phil shrugs. “It was worth it.” 

 

“How long?” 

Phil takes a deep breath and thinks about it. “Since that day you cracked my neck.” 

“ _That_ made you fall for me? A neck crack?” 

Phil nods. “It was a really good neck crack.” 

Clint presses a kiss to Phil’s chest. “I don’t remember when I realised. Maybe when you broke all your bones and were loopy on drugs.”

“I didn’t break _all_ of my bones. Just six.” 

“Oh, just six? Is that all?” 

Phil shifts them so he’s straddling Clint - his boyfriend, apparently - looking down at him before kissing his mouth. “Love your mouth,” he says, cause it’s done some pretty impressive things lately. “It’s. It’s a really good mouth.” 

Clint strokes the skin of Phil’s thighs and grins. “What about my tongue?” 

“Good tongue, too. Good head area in general, actually. The rest of you’s not bad either.” 

 

Clint snorts and pulls Phil down for another kiss, deeper this time with a lot of that excellent tongue. When he’s done, Phil’s so disarmed he’s easily flipped and pinned, with Clint kissing his way down his body. He’s nosing around Phil’s assuredly spent cock when Phil tugs at his hair to have him look up. “I love you,” he says, and Clint rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. I’m adorable.” 

“Adorable?”

He puffs out his chest like it needs to be any bigger and nods. “Adorable.”

 

Phil thinks that’s an end to it, and he can live with it being something he says and Clint just jokes about, cause he’s not so good at being sincere and that’s one of the things Phil likes about him. Loves. But then Clint kisses his way back up and ends up with his face pressed against Phil’s neck. “I love you, too.” 

“I know,” Phil replies, and when Clint lets him, he kisses him again, hoping they both get to say it again and again and again.

 


End file.
